


Seven Minutes in Heaven (My Ass.)

by screamsfromthevoid



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Crack, Games, M/M, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, Spin the Bottle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-22 07:35:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22045651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamsfromthevoid/pseuds/screamsfromthevoid
Summary: In a family friendly game of Spin the Bottle, fate has mercilessly decided that Alastor's ignorant ass must partake in certain activities with Angel Dust. In the closet. ;)(This is supposed to be retarded.)
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 10
Kudos: 81





	Seven Minutes in Heaven (My Ass.)

**Author's Note:**

> don't hurt me.

  
The closet door clicked open and Vaggie returned to the circle, looking heated. Angry, rather. She sat down by Charlie.

Following shortly after was a disgruntled Husk. He was slowly making his way back to the group, his hands clutched over his crotch. He seemed to be in immense pain as he took his place next to Alastor.

"Not the agreeable type, is she?" Angel Dust cackled.

"Fuck off, shit-stain," Husk grunted, tucking himself into a fetal position as he plopped over on his side, whimpering meekly.

Alastor wasn't paying mind to them any further, though, his wide, worried eyes fixated dramatically on the bottle. For once, he felt anxiousness, and his eternal smile widened by a fraction of an inch. Whose turn was it? Who was it going to land on? Who would go into the closet of torture next? 

"My turn!" Angel exclaimed, taking hold of the empty liquor bottle. He spun it with all the carelessness in the world. It was in fate's hands now, Alastor knew.

The Radio Demon prayed to the lord it wouldn't land on him, and the bottle continued to spin.

It's been two minutes. It was still spinning uncontrollably. Everyone stared at it with sincere confusion and slight discomfort.

"Um... is that normal?" Charlie piped up, unable to stop staring.

"Nope," Angel replied blatantly, though he looked just as dumbfounded as everyone else. 

Niffty reached out to stop it. "Should we- Ow!"

Angel had slapped her hand away from the bottle, desperate to finish his turn. "Back off, bimbo. Let it finish spinning. If anyone gets up..." Angel pulled an assault rifle from betwixt his deceiving chest fluff. "...Everyone dies, including myself."

"This is fucking crazy," Husk growled irritably. "I need some god damn alcohol."

"Angel, nobody else can run the hotel with us all in here," Vaggie complained. "Just-"

He pointed the gun at her. **"Let it spin."**

And so they did.

Thirty minutes had passed. Charlie was leaning against the wall, rocking back and forth, uttering nonsense as Angel Dust and Vaggie had a death match right in front of her. Husk had used the distraction to get up, get some booze, and come back. Niffty had fallen asleep five minutes after Angel's initial threat and Alastor sat plainly where he was, amused, scared, and confused all at once.

Alastor, despite being fully capable and more of leaving the room to tend to much more important matters, still sat, still as a slab of wood, his fingers twitching as the bottle continued to spin mercilessly.

Another hour had gone by. Husk was passed out cold, a stray line of alcohol trickling from his mouth. Niffty had left the room to take care of the hotel, much to the disdain of Angel Dust, who was in Vaggie's steel death grip. She had a murderous glint in her eyes. Charlie was making soft noises to stop it, though her words meant nothing. Alastor was beginning to lose his patience. The corners of his mouth had perked up another smidgen, his eyes twitching.

Then, it happened.

Vaggie was strangling Angel Dust when the bottle finally began to slow down. It was skidding to a halt!

"Guys, look!" Charlie squeaked, tearing Vaggie and Angel apart and turning their heads to stare at the bottle. They both stopped their quarrel and went back to their designated areas in the circle. With Niffty gone and Husk down for the count, there were only four players left. 

Alastor began to sweat. Stakes were high. He knew what he was risking, still playing this childish game he agreed to join.

_Clank!_

The bottle stopped, its neck jutting towards Alastor.

_That's no good._

"Hell yeah!" Angel Dust whooped, tearing away from Vaggie. "I get seven minutes alone with you, Strawberry."

_Dear god._

"So, what do we do in the closet?" Alastor inquired warily as he stood up. "Do we have a pleasant conversation? Some tea, perhaps?"

Angel laughed in his face. "We'll get there when we get there."

Alastor followed Angel into the closet. The spider closed the door, the click of the lock following soon after.

"It sure is dark in here," Alastor observed, averting his gaze from Angel.

"Why don't you come here," Angel suggested seductively, running all twenty of his fingers beneath his tight garments, preparing to take them off. "Take that bullshit off and let me take care of you."

"Why, I don't need to be taken care of," Alastor assured him cautiously, pressing up against the wall as Angel advanced towards him, licking his lips.

"Let me suck your dick god damn it!" Angel hissed, moving to remove Alastor's buckle. 

_Snap!_

Angel flew back in surprise. "What the actual fuck?"

Alastor's smile was much larger than before as the crackling noise of radio static buzzed from him. He screams.

He was on the floor, his neck bent at a most awkward angle. One arm was far out of its socket, dangling like a noodle from his body and laying limp on the floor. His legs, Angel initially thought, were gone. He was considerably shorter. However, upon closer inspection, he realized his legs literally sank into his torso.

A high-pitched, feminine scream pierced the air, and it took Angel a second to realize that it was his.

\---

"When do you think they'll be coming out of the closet?" Charlie asked.

"It's Alastor we're talking about. Angel won't last long with him," Vaggie answered, poking her finger into the floor. "I'm about done with this game anyway. Let's go, Charlie. We have a hotel to run. I'm starting to be sorry we agreed to this, anyway."

Angel's sharp shriek of terror stopped them dead in their tracks. They looked at each other and towards the closet as it splintered and squeaked in protest.

"LET ME OUT!" Angel cried. "LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, I THINK THE GUY JUST **FUCKING** MELTED!"

"Unlock the door!" Charlie called out to him. The yelling stopped momentarily as he gingerly unlocked the door. As soon as it was open, all hell broke loose.

Angel sprinted to safety behind Charlie, peering over her shoulder. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED."

A thump noise erupted from the now open closet, and Alastor was on his stomach, on the floor. His limp noodle arm was squiggled out in front of him like a worm. Behind him, his feet were barely sticking out from under his coat. His neck, though... Vaggie and Charlie both blinked in dismay at its bent stature.

"Um, Alastor? Do you need help?" Charlie offered her hand, but she immediately jerked back when his hissing got louder. 

"He'll be alright," Vaggie said, waving dismissively. "Let's go, guys. He'll be back to normal in no time."

As the three left Alastor in the closet, Alastor was crying softly. He wouldn't be alright. He had broken his body beyond his own repair and couldn't fix himself without help.

He was doomed to remain that way in that closet doorway. Alone and miserable. Regretful and sad. He couldn't undo what was done.

All of this, simply because he played a game of spin the bottle.

_What a waste._


End file.
